


But if anyone can keep me happy you’re the one who can

by fardareismai



Series: Where You Lead [12]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Family Drama, Family Feels, Wedding Fluff, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-02-29 07:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18774361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fardareismai/pseuds/fardareismai
Summary: It's finally wedding time, but it couldn't possibly go smoothly or simply.  Not in Storybrooke.  Fortunately for everyone, Emma's got it covered.Another story in the Where You Lead series, an OUAT Gilmore Girls AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **It's the moment we've all been waiting for for what seems like forever, Mary Margaret and David's wedding (or the week of it... their wedding comes somewhere around chapter 6 or 7).**
> 
>  
> 
> **I once said that I was gonna make WLG write the wedding 'cause I'm no good at fluff, but she said she wouldn't do it, so I did it instead. Sorry about that, but I did try guys... She cheerlead and talked me through it, so it's not up to her level of sweet, but it's not my usual bitter either so... She's still the star of my life.**
> 
>  
> 
> **If this is the first of this series you've found, you may want to start at the beginning. If you don't want to do that, this is a Once Upon a Time fic set in the Gilmore Girls universe (sort of). It's soapy and silly and it's fun for the whole family (except for the bits that are definitely adult-rated).**
> 
>  
> 
> **I hope you all enjoy this one. I'll let you know from the start that the second major scene in this chapter isn't mine. I stole it shamelessly and without remorse, and if you want me to apologize, you'll have to fight me.**
> 
>  
> 
> **Happy day!**

Mary Margaret stepped into the Jolly Roger and was hit full in the face with the smells of coffee, toasting bread, and bacon. It turned her stomach so much that she spun on her heel and left immediately, gulping down the bitterly cold air in the square instead.

She crossed to the gazebo in the middle of the green and stepped up, taking comfort in the classic shape that felt cozy without really enclosing her.

Mary Margaret had no idea what was wrong with her. It was like her hangover from nearly a month before had never quite gone away. She'd had heartburn and nausea and headaches off and on ever since.

She'd sworn at least twice a day since then that she would never drink again, and if her heartburn had anything to say about it, she'd keep that vow.

Even her cooking was suffering. Everything tasted wrong in the kitchen, and half of the food smelled rotten, even if it wasn't.

She supposed the one saving grace was that she hadn't had period cramps to add to the suffering.

Mary Margaret sat up straight on the wooden bench, suddenly realizing the implications of the thought.

She looked down at herself, almost surprised to find her stomach still as flat as ever, rather than huge and round, now that she had an inkling what might be wrong.

And what if it had been before Portland, she thought with sudden horror. All that alcohol- oh god what had she done?

But no… she and David had been careful for months. Mary Margaret wasn't on the pill- they'd thought they might start trying as soon as they were married. They'd had a few near-misses in the early days, but they'd gotten really good about using latex every time.

Except... the night after Portland, when she'd still been feeling so under-the-weather, and David had cuddled up to her in bed, holding her gently, stroking her…

She'd pushed back against him and he'd… He'd even tried to stop, to get a condom, but she'd told him it was safe. Of course she had no idea- her period had been erratic from the first time she'd had it, no tracker would possibly know her potential fertility, so she'd never bothered to use one. She'd wanted him that day, and hadn't wanted to stop.

Mary Margaret felt like the world was spinning, and wondered if it was nerves or another symptom of early-stage pregnancy. She had to tell someone.

David?

Oh god, what would David think? They'd agreed they wanted kids, and soon, but probably not quite  _this_  soon. Would he be furious with her? It was her fault, after all.

No, she needed to talk it through with someone who would understand. Someone who'd been through it before. Someone who would listen. Someone who could keep it to themselves.

She was up and on her way to Emma's house before she'd even finished the thought.

~?~?~?~?~

Killian came in the back door of Swan's house with a spring in his step. He'd just dropped Henry off for his last day of school before the winter holiday, he'd talked Emma into taking a day off- this last one before the madness of the wedding and Christmas took over- and he'd left the diner in the capable hands of Bart, Jim, and Ned for the day.

If he knew his Swan, she'd still be asleep in bed, and he was looking forward to joining her and waking her slowly.

To his surprise, however, Emma was in her kitchen, dressed in his shirt, mostly unbuttoned over her leggings, fiddling with something on the stovetop.

"What are you doing awake, Swan?" Killian asked, even as he bent to remove his boots.

"Making breakfast," she said. "It's pancakes… well it's supposed to be. I don't think I got enough milk in the mix and it's kind of…" she turned and showed him the glutinous sludge in her bowl.

"Emma," Killian said, insistently, stepping close to her and taking the bowl out of her hands to set in the sink- it wasn't edible. "Henry is out of the house," he said, reaching behind himself to turn off the stove. "We're not working." He stepped toward her, crowding her out of the kitchen and toward the stairs. "We've the whole day alone together." They were at the bottom of the stairs, and Emma took a step up one, then two, and he followed her. "I've no intention of spending any bloody time in the kitchen."

"Aren't you hungry?" she asked, smiling like a cat with cream.

"Starving," he growled. "Let's go upstairs and I'll show you just what for-"

There was a loud, panicked knock on the door.

"Emma? Emma, are you home?" Mary Margaret's voice came from the other side of the door, and then it opened.

"Bloody typical," Killian muttered, not bothering to turn around.

"Oh, Killian,' Mary Margaret said, nervously. "I saw the Jolly was open, so I assumed… I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" she asked, suddenly.

"No!" Emma said, at the same moment Killian cried, "yes!"

The pair of them glared at each other.

"What do you need, Mary Margaret?" Emma asked, gently pushing Killian aside so she could step around him down the stairs.

"Uhm… I really need to talk to you about something… something private."

Killian gave a gusty sigh. "Suppose I'll go take a shower then and head into work. Lucky me, Henry used all the hot water this morning."

Emma gave him an apologetic smile as he stalked up the stairs, then turned her attention to Mary Margaret.

"Come on," she said, taking her friend's small hand and tugging her into the kitchen. "I'll get you some coffee."

"Oh… no," Mary Margaret said, frowning worriedly. "Do you have any- any milk?"

Emma looked surprised by the request for a moment, then shrugged. "Yeah, sure." She dug into the fridge and pulled out the milk carton, shaking it and grimacing at how little was left. Then she took a cup from the cupboard, poured the milk in, and set it in front of Mary Margaret. She picked up her own cup of coffee and settled across the table from her friend.

"So what's up, Mary Margaret?" she asked. "Mim causing problems again?"

"No," Mary Margaret said, shaking her head. "No, it-it's not Mim."

"You haven't fought with David, have you?" Emma asked, running through the likely possibilities for wedding jitters.

"No!" Mary Margaret said, sounding surprised. "Well… at least… not yet. Emma, would you mind not drinking that coffee over here? I'm not feeling great and the smell…"

Emma stood without thinking and stepped toward the kitchen counter with her coffee cup, then stopped, turned, looked at Mary Margaret oddly for a moment, and returned to sit down again across from her.

"You're pregnant, aren't you?" she said, softly.

"What?" Mary Margaret cried. "I didn't say- how did you- what?"

Emma smiled. "You've been off for weeks," she said, ticking the statement off on a finger, "you're here acting like you've got wedding jitters when everything's totally on track, and you apparently can't stand the smell of Killian's coffee. Either you're pregnant or you've been body-snatched by aliens. Though, if I'm honest with you, they're kind of the same thing."

Emma cocked her head, looking into her best friend's miserable face.

"Are you okay? I thought you and David  _wanted_ kids."

"We did!" Mary Margaret said. "I mean, we  _do_ , but… we're not married yet!"

Emma snorted and waved this away. "Your wedding is Saturday. It's not like you're going into this with a six-month belly. And even if you were, you  _want_ babies, and you were going to get married regardless. What did David say when you told him?"

"I haven't told him!" Mary Margaret said. "I just realized this morning that I might be-"

"You haven't told David? You haven't taken a test?" Emma cried. "What are you doing here? Why tell me first? You need to go home, call Dave, take a test, and talk this out!"

"I can't tell him," Mary Margaret moaned, hiding her face in her hands. "This is all my fault."

"I suspect Dave had some hand in the matter," Emma said, dryly. "So are you saying he  _doesn't_  want kids?"

"No! Of course he wants kids but…"

"Mary Margaret-"

"What if this is too soon?" she burst out. "We'll barely be married eight months and then-" she gestured down at her front.

Emma opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, frowning. "Are you… are you thinking you might not keep it?" she asked slowly, trying hard to keep any tone of judgement out of her voice.

"No!" Mary Margaret cried, clutching her stomach and staring horrified at Emma as though she had threatened to perform the procedure herself.

Emma sighed in relief. She believed in a woman's right to choose- had believed in her own twelve years before even- but it would have been wildly out of character for Mary Margaret to even consider the option.

"And I can only assume you're still planning on marrying Dave on Saturday?" Emma said, one eyebrow raised.

"Yes!" Mary Margaret said, then her face fell. "That is, if he still-"

"Look, Mary Margaret, I've raised some pretty stupid possibilities today, but let's not get silly. David Nolan has wanted to marry you for twenty years. He's probably wanted to have babies with you for just as long. Now both of those things are realities, and I don't understand why you're freaking out. He's going to be thrilled! Honestly, you should call him now."

"I can't!" Mary Margaret cried. "What if I'm not pregnant?"

"What?" Emma asked, not following the logic at all. "If you're not pregnant, then nothing has changed."

"Right! So… maybe I'm not pregnant! Maybe it's just stress and nerves before the wedding! I haven't taken a test so…"

Emma sighed. "Okay," she conceded. "Sounds like you need to take a test."

"I can't buy a pregnancy test in Storybrooke!" Mary Margaret cried, looking horrified. "Someone will see! People will talk!"

"So go to Misthaven and get one. You can take the test in a McDonald's bathroom."

"I can't go alone! Emma, you have to come with me!"

Emma sighed. She'd known it was coming, but there'd still been that tiniest fraction of a sliver of hope that her lazy day in bed with Killian might have been salvaged. So much for that.

"Yeah," she said, pushing herself up from the table, "I'll go with you. I've got to go get ready," she added and padded toward the rest of the house. "Drink some water," she tossed over her shoulder as she started up the stairs. "I don't want to have to wait around half the day, okay?"

Up in her bedroom, Killian was naked but for a towel around his waist and was rubbing another towel over his short, shaggy hair. His eyes lit when they saw her, however, and he dropped the towel and was over to her in a moment.

"Is she gone?" he asked, eagerly. "Can we-"

"No," Emma said, morosely. She should push him away, but she gave in, instead, to the warm, humid temptation of his arms. "I'm sorry, Babe, but our day's shot straight to hell. I have to drive Mary Margaret into Misthaven and I have no idea when I'll be back."

"Misthaven?" Killian said, bewildered. "Has something gone wrong with the wedding?"

"No," Emma said with a sigh. "The wedding's fine. Still on and everything. Mary Margaret's just-" She stopped.

It was one thing for Mary Margaret to have come to Emma before telling David. She hadn't been thinking clearly, and Emma had been through it all once before, and sometimes a girl just needed another girl.

If  _Killian_ knew before David, however, that would be a different matter entirely.

She sighed again. "I can't tell you," she said.

Killian leaned back to look her in the face. "I can keep a secret, Love."

Emma smiled at him, tiredly. "I know, but so can I, and I need to keep this one for her. I'm sorry. I promise we're fine- she's fine, David's fine, the wedding's still on, you're fine, I'm fine-"

"I'm perfectly aware of that," he said, pulling her close again and nuzzling her neck.

"Dork," Emma said, and gave him a tiny shove that affected him not an iota.

"I trust you," he said, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin between her ear and her jaw.

"You don't  _have_ to go into work," Emma said, not looking at him, and tracing the anchor on his chest with her index finger. "You could stay… I might get done in time to come home and we could…" she trailed off.

Killian smiled. "That's tempting, Love, but I have a feeling that Mary Margaret having a secret emergency three days before her wedding means I'm not likely to see you before bed tonight, so I may as well go in. I'll take off early to pick up the lad from school. You don't worry your head about us, it's got enough in it just now without that."

Emma smiled at him, rose up on her toes, and kissed him sweetly.

"I love you," she said. "I have no idea why you put up with me, but I love you for doing it."

"That's  _why_ I do it," he said, kissing her nose and then letting her go so she could get dressed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Happy Fanfiction Friday. I have an interview today for a job that might potentially be a dream job, so if you're reading this, think a positive thought for me.**

Emma collapsed onto Mary Margaret's sofa in the loft as the lady herself hurried off to her bathroom clutching the Misthaven pharmacy bag to her chest.

Once they were sure- Emma was sure, but she supposed it was only right to check- she'd take Mary Margaret out to the farm to tell David. Ruth too, she realized, smiling at the thought of Ruth's probable response to being a grandmother. Leo and Mim were antiquing in Arrendale, so Mary Margaret and David could tell them over dinner once they got back. Emma would need to tell Ruby to nix all of the cocktails for Friday night- the rest of them shouldn't drink when Mary Margaret couldn't- and she'd call the Inn's kitchen to get some ginger ale for the champagne toast at the end of the wedding.

Then she could finally go home and tell Killian and Henry. Her smile deepened at the thought of how her boys would react. Henry would be over the moon. Killian… well…

She remembered how he'd been with little Hope at Thanksgiving: making faces to make her laugh, swinging her around to take her mind off her teeth. Yeah, Killian would be pretty pleased to find out he was becoming Uncle Killian to the Blanchard-Nolan baby.

Thinking of Killian made Emma think of their planned day off, ruined by Mary Margaret's freakout. Why she couldn't have waited one day- even one hour- Emma would never know. Everything had been crazy for weeks, and the thought of a long day spent in Killian's arms was the best thought either of them had had since Thanksgiving. He was right- she wouldn't have another moment free until after Christmas. Henry would be with his dad at the time, and Emma supposed, if she had to find a silver lining in that fact, it was that she might get a day alone with Killian in the quiet week between Christmas and New Year.

Mary Margaret walked into the living room, staring at the little plastic device in her hands as though it were an oracle with all the wisdom of the future.

Emma sat up quickly. "So?" she asked. "What does it say?"

"Nothing, yet," Mary Margaret said, sitting beside Emma and setting the test on the coffee table in front of them. "The instructions said three to five minutes."

"Why'd you bring it in here?" Emma asked. "Ick."

Mary Margaret said nothing, so Emma subsided to wait with her. She decided, after a minute, that it would probably be bad form to hum the Jeopardy theme for the next three minutes.

"Does it beep or something when it's done?" Emma asked after a bit.

Mary Margaret had spent the drive to Misthaven furiously researching the most accurate pregnancy test on her phone, cursing any time they got too far out of reach of a cell tower and she lost signal. They'd landed on one with an electronic readout that looked like it came from a different planet than the one Emma had used twelve years ago to find out about Henry.

"No," Mary Margaret said, not looking away from it. "It'll just-" she waved her hand vaguely, "-say."

"Right," Emma said and dropped back against the couch cushions. 'Just say.' Well, hers had done the same thing, but she'd actually been able to watch the little plus sign materialize across the viewing window as it happened.

Why did three minutes always seem to take six years in these moments. Emma hadn't been bored in months before this, but now, all of a sudden, she was as twitchy as a kid.

"Emma!" Mary Margaret grabbed her hand tightly, and Emma sat forward to read the word that had appeared on the tiny screen.

Pregnant.

Of course, Emma had known. She'd known with Henry too, but seeing it verified like that was something else. When it had been Henry, she'd wanted to cry. With Mary Margaret's baby, on the other hand, she wanted to whoop.

Mary Margaret looked like she'd been turned to stone by an evil fairy.

"Come on," Emma said, grabbing her hand and tugging to get her off the sofa.

"What?" Mary Margaret said, finally seeming to come awake. "Where are we going?"

"You have two choices," Emma said as she bullied her friend into her coat much the same way she would do with Henry. "Either we go across the way to celebrate with waffles and the whole rest of the town at the Jolly-"

"Emma, you can't tell-"

"-Or we drive straight out to the Nolan farm and you tell David immediately."

"Those are my only options?" Mary Margaret asked as Emma shoved her out the front door of the loft.

"Yup. A or B?"

Mary Margaret sighed. "B."

~?~?~?~?~

Working farms in winter should always have a shielding layer of snow to keep them from looking too depressing, Emma decided as they pulled up to the Nolan place. The fields looked brown and fallow, and the huge hot-houses in the back were so fogged they looked like elaborate igloos. The farmhouse was as sturdy and simple as ever, but set against brown dirt rather than verdant greenery, it looked like something out of a Depression-era mimeograph rather than the cozy place she knew it to be.

David himself answered their knock, holding a cup of steaming, fragrant coffee.

"Mary Margaret," he said in surprise. "Emma. What are you doing here?"

"Mary Margaret has something she wants to tell you," Emma said, pushing past David and into the warm house. "I'll take that," she added, plucking the coffee from his hand. "You guys chat out here, I'm going to find Ruth."

Ruth was, as expected, in her bright study, and seemed pleased to find Emma at her door.

"Hello dear," she said cheerfully. "Do you need something? You're clearly not here for David, as I sent him to answer the door."

There was a question implied in her words that Emma answered.

"Mary Margaret is here to talk to Dave," she said. "I'm just her chauffeur today. Which is fine, since it gives me a chance to talk with my favorite person in Storybrooke."

Ruth gave her a mock glare, though she couldn't seem to keep the smile from her face at the same time.

"I know you, Emma Swan," she said. "You're only saying I'm your favorite because you can smell baking cookies."

Emma just grinned. "I could smell the cookies from town, which is why I agreed to drive Mary Margaret out in the first place."

Ruth laughed and pushed herself back from her desk. "Come on then," she said. "They're in the kitchen. And if you stole that coffee from David, it's going to be much too bitter for you. There's sugar in there as well."

There were benefits, Emma thought, to having a reputation as a coffee-hound. One of them was not having to explain that she had actually taken David's cup because the smell would have made Mary Margaret nauseous. She figured it was better to let David and Mary Margaret tell Ruth themselves. She'd enjoy the story much more coming from those two than from Emma.

In the kitchen, Ruth set a plate of butter cookies and the sugar bowl in front of where Emma was sitting at the breakfast bar.

"How go the wedding plans?" she asked, pouring her own cup of coffee.

"Not so bad," Emma said, spooning sugar into hers. "Everything's pretty much ready for Saturday. There are little details to finish up, but there always are. These cookies are  _amazing…_ you don't want to adopt me, do you?"

"God no!" Ruth said, looking shocked. "Your mother is terrifying and would  _destroy_ me in a custody battle."

Emma considered this for a moment and nodded. "That's probably true. Pity though, might have been fun to be Dave's actual sister to make all those protective instincts actually valid."

Ruth smiled. "He's a defender, our David. Any idea what Mary Margaret wanted to talk to him about?"

"None," Emma fibbed easily. "I'm just the driver today."

"Well that is kind of you," Ruth said.

"Kind enough to deserve another cookie?" Emma asked.

Ruth laughed, but nudged the plate of cookies closer.

Emma had just taken a bite of her second one when Mary Margaret and David appeared, both looking happy and scared and oddly (as they were both a couple of years older than she was) very very young.

"Is… is everything okay?" Emma asked.

"Yes!" the pair said together.

"Everything is… perfect, really," David said.

"Yes," Mary Margaret said, nodding manically, "I was worried for nothing."

"Good to hear," Emma said, beginning to wonder what the hell was going on. "So…?"

"So…" Mary Margaret repeated. "So… we can go back to town now!"

"We can?" Emma asked.

"Yes! Loads still to do before the big day! Can't hide out in Ruth's kitchen eating cookies!"

"Sorry to disappoint!" David said, grinning and looking half-crazed.

Emma and Ruth exchanged a look at this behavior.

"Are you sure?" Emma asked. "Nothing else we need to do out here?"

"No!" they both cried together.

"Right," Emma said slowly. "Do I at least have time to finish my cookie?"

Mary Margaret sighed. "Emma, we need to get back to town right away, there's a lot still to do!"

"Sure, yeah, of course," Emma said, popping the rest of her cookie into her mouth and washing it down with the last of her coffee. "Thanks, Ruth," she said, standing. "See you Friday- my mom's place."

"Yes dear," Ruth said. "Anything I should bring?"

Emma shook her head. "Maybe a bit of cash. Tips, you know?" Emma winked broadly, making Ruth laugh, David look a bit shocked, and Mary Margaret roll her eyes.

"Come on," Mary Margaret said, grabbing Emma's arm and pulling. "See us out, David?"

David shook his head as though to clear it and followed the girls to the front door.

"What do you need tips for?" he asked. "I thought we agreed no strippers."

"Oh chill, Dave," Emma said. "We've got a couple of ladies coming in for pedicures and facials is all."

"Oh right," David said, relaxing visibly.

"What I want to know," Emma said as they reached the bitterly cold front porch, "is why you're not telling Ruth that-"

"Emma!" Mary Margaret cried, cutting her off. "The door is open," she whispered.

Emma shook her head and stepped forward to close it. "Okay, explain now."

Mary Margaret shrugged. "We don't want anyone to know. Not yet."

"As soon as we get back from the honeymoon, we'll tell everyone," David added.

"Why though? You're not really hiding anything," Emma said. "Anyone who can count is going to guess you were… a little quick off the mark."

"It's not that we're trying to hide it," David said. "I mean, not exactly."

"It's just that right now is wedding time," Mary Margaret explained. "After we get back it can be baby time."

"You'll keep our secret, won't you, Emma?" David asked.

"Please?" Mary Margaret pleaded, grey-green eyes wide.

Emma's sighed and nodded. It would be a huge pain in her ass, and she had no idea how, but they were her best friends and, in the end, she'd do just about anything for them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I didn't get the job from last week's interview.  Fortunately this is a cute, shippy sort of a chapter, so maybe it'll cheer me up.  Let me know if it cheers you up!**

It had been dark for hours when Emma pulled up in front of her little house. True enough, it got dark around 3 at this time of year, but it was nearly 7 and the downstairs windows glowed dully behind the curtains that had been drawn against the dark and cold.

The house looked smaller and dimmer than usual when compared with the neighbors, all of whom seemed to have gone all-out with their Christmas lights this year, like all of them were competing for an Instagram presence.

Though Emma was no fan of ladders, most years she would have put lights on the porch, in the bushes, and on her fence. One year, David had come and put lights on the house, and another year Killian had. This year, however, she hadn't found the time, and considering that Henry would be leaving two days after the wedding and remain gone until after the first of the year, it hardly felt worth it to decorate.

Emma could recognize that she was being bitter, but couldn't seem to motivate herself to care.

It didn't matter now, though. Behind the muted gold glow of the curtains, Henry was still with her, inside the warm house with Killian. The thought gave Emma a warm burst of pleasure below her heart- her boys, in her house, waiting for her.  _Their_ house, really- Killian hadn't stayed in his flat above the diner since Thanksgiving. Emma had begun to think it might be time to make that official- stop pretending she didn't know that he thought of her home as his. Pretending she didn't think of it as his too.

It was a consideration for another time, though perhaps not one she could put off for much longer.

Emma clenched her teeth and pushed open the door of the Bug into the bitter-cold night, ready to rush inside as quickly as possible. Her door had hardly snapped shut, however, when Henry was barrelling out the door of their house, shouting for her.

""Mom! Mom! You're home! We've got a surprise for you!" he cried as he rushed her and gave her a quick, bouncing hug.

"Surprise?" Emma said, stupidly, as he ran back to the front door.

"Yeah! Me and Killian decorated for Christmas!" Henry said, then stuck his head in the door. "Hit it, Killian!" he called inside.

Suddenly, the facade of Emma's little house lit up. There were neat, multi-colored lights along the guttering, twinkling fairy lights in the bushes, and strands of red and gold wrapped in candy cane stripes along the railing of the front porch.

"We did the inside too," Henry said, rushing back out to the front lawn to grab Emma's hand and pull her toward the door. "Come on, you have to see it."

"What-" Emma started, allowing him to pull her along, then decided the answer to  _that_  question was obvious. "Why?" she asked instead.

"Because you weren't going to," Henry explained. "And we thought you should."

Once inside the house, Emma couldn't help but laugh. The year they had moved in, she had gone to the fabric store in February and bought out the last of their stock of Christmas fabric, most of it for spare change per yard. She'd then spent the rest of the year making decorations with it. Most years she pulled out a few of the pillows, a couple of yards of chain, and the old felt tree skirt she'd made, and left the rest of it in the attic. Killian and Henry, on the other hand, had gotten everything out, all the way down to the cruddy old stockings she'd made for that first year, which they had long-since replaced. The two old stockings and Henry's new one were hung over the fireplace, and the rest of the house looked like a craft store explosion.

"We don't have a tree yet," Henry explained, pulling her along with him into the living room where Killian was waiting, looking half proud and half sheepish. "We're going to get one Sunday and decorate it Sunday night before I leave."

Killian shrugged when she met his gaze. "I know you hadn't planned on decorating, but the lad and I had time and it… there wasn't any harm in it. There are more decorations than I remember though."

Emma snorted a laugh. "Yeah, most of these don't come out any more," she said. She picked up a blanket that had been laid across the back of the sofa. It was patterned in blue and white snowflakes and still had coffee and red-wine stains on it that had never come out, no matter how many washes she'd given it. The big quilted flowers sitting on top of the TV were decidedly shabby, and one of the garlands was faded nearly to white.

"I like it!" Henry said. "Oh, but Mom, we've got another surprise for you too!"

" _Another_  surprise? Where did you find the time?"

"We've been waiting  _hours_!" Henry complained. "I've been out of school since 3!"

Emma looked around surprised. "All of this and the house didn't take you four hours?"

"Ah," Killian said, blushing slightly. "Well, I ended up deciding I didn't want to go to work on my day off after all and had already done the house before Henry got done with school."

"You decorated unprompted?" Emma asked, shocked. "You're going to lose your reputation as a humbug, Jones."

He didn't say anything, just smiled and nodded toward Henry, who was growing impatient with this conversation.

"Right," Emma said, turning back to her son. "A surprise. Did you guys make Christmas cookies or something?"

"No," Henry said, rolling his eyes in a very teenager-ish way. "Killian taught me to dance."

"Dance?" Emma asked, confused. "Kid, you dance all the time. Any time there's music, you're squirming to it."

"Not like that," Henry said with a sigh. " _Adult_  dancing."

Emma turned to give a dubious look to Killian.

He chuckled. "I taught him to waltz, Swan, not twerk. For the wedding."

"Oh!" Emma cried, the whole conversation suddenly making sense. "Well that's wonderful!"

"I want to show you!" Henry said.

"Sure, right," Emma agreed, stepping out of his way before he grabbed her hand.

"Here," Henry said, tugging he forward and putting her hand on his shoulder. "Like this."

Emma wondered if Mary Margaret's 'pregnancy brain' was contagious as she settled into a standard waltz hold with Henry. She was feeling stupid tonight, having been bashed around by circumstance all day. To add to the list of things that had disturbed her mind, she realized, as they waited for Killian to turn on the music they had apparently queued up for this, that Henry was standing nearly an inch taller than her shoulder. When the hell had he gotten so tall?

When the music started, Emma began to count unconsciously. She'd been taught a waltz once, an age ago, at that hoity-toity school Regina had sent her to. She smiled when she realized Henry was counting under his breath too.

It took him three measures to be ready to start, and when he did, Emma wasn't quite ready, and he stepped on her toe.

"I'm sorry, Mom!" he cried.

"No, it's my fault, I wasn't sure when you were going to start. Let's agree to start on three, ok?" She started to count with the music, "one-two-three, two-two-three,  _three_ -two-three."

This time, when Henry stepped forward, Emma stepped back and they managed to dance without any more drama. It'd been ages since Emma had danced like this, and she could feel how clumsy she was. Fortunately, Henry was just as clumsy, and too new to the dance to recognize his mom's mistakes.

When the music ended, Emma dropped Henry's hand and pulled him in for a tight hug.

"Belle's going to be so excited when she dances with you on Saturday," she said into his hair.

Henry leaned back and looked up at her, eyes wide. "Belle?" he asked, his voice cracking like a teenager. "I'm going to be dancing with Belle?"

Emma bit back a smile. "Yessir," she said easily. "First dance of the reception will be the wedding waltz. David and Mary Margaret will start us off and then all of the wedding party has to join in. You're dancing with Belle."

"Oh," Henry said, furrowing his brow.

"Don't worry, she's a much better dancer than I am," Emma assured him. "She'll know when to start, and you won't step on her toes."

"Really?" Henry asked.

"Promise," Emma assured him.

"So are you dancing with Killian then?"

This time Emma did smile. "'Fraid not, Kid," she said. "As Maid of Honor, I have the very great honor of dancing with the best man, James Nolan."

Henry wrinkled his nose. "But you hate James," he said.

"I don't hate James-" Emma hedged.

"Last summer when he came to Storybrooke to see Mrs. Nolan and he told you you would be pretty if you did something with your hair and face, you said-"

"If he said that, your mum had every right to say she hated him," Killian interrupted. "I don't remember any of this. Where was I?"

"Working," Emma and Henry said together.

"Oh aye, right," Killian said, apparently suddenly remembering that, before he and Emma had started dating, he had few hobbies beyond his diner.

"Okay, yes," Emma said with a sigh to her son, "I hate James Nolan. But he's David's brother so we're all going to pretend we don't hate him for the duration of this wedding, okay?"

Both of her boys gave her dubious looks, and Emma rolled her eyes.

"Not meant to be a rhetorical question, gentlemen. We're going to at least tolerate James until David and Mary Margaret are safely married,  _okay_?"

"Okay," they both grumbled back.

Killian turned back to the stereo and hit play again, which started another waltz, different from the one Emma and Henry had just danced to.

"Lad, do you might if I cut in with your mum?" Killian asked. "By my math, that leaves me dancing with our Ruby, and if I step on her toes from lack of practice, she's liable to take a bite out of me."

"Sure," Henry said, sliding out of his mom's embrace. "Hey, can I have a Coke?"

The question was directed at Killian who automatically opened his mouth as though to answer, but shut it immediately and glanced over at Emma, which drew Henry's eyes to her.

"Please, Mom?"

"No," she said. "You can have milk or juice."

Henry thought about this for a moment. "Chocolate milk?" he wheedled.

Emma considered for a moment, then shrugged. It was nearly Christmas, after all.

"Yeah, okay. If there's still chocolate sauce in the pantry, you can have chocolate milk."

"All right!" Henry said, bouncing happily toward the kitchen.

Emma hadn't quite finished watching him go when Killian put his hand to her waist and drew her toward him.

She'd been dreading this- being alone with him, looking into his eyes, having him ask what had happened today and having to tell him-

"Hey," he said softly, dropping his forehead to hers so that they were nearly nose-to-nose. "Relax, Love. You've been tense all night."

"I can't tell you what Mary Margaret wanted," Emma blurted out. "It's not that I don't trust you, but I promised I wouldn't-"

"Hey," he said again, "I didn't ask. I figured you'd tell me when you could, or if it were something I needed to know. She's not sick?" He watched her until she shook her head. "She and David are still getting married in two days?" A nod. "You're alright? And Henry?" Another nod, and a small smile. "And Storybrooke isn't about to break off of Maine and go drifting into the ocean?"

This time Emma laughed and sighed, leaning into him as he shifted his grip to a waltz hold and began to lead her in the dance.

"Relax," he murmured into her ear, holding her much closer than Henry had. "Let me lead, Love. Let me carry you for a moment."

Was it any surprise, Emma wondered as she released the cares of the day and turned her mind over to dance, that she had fallen for him? He let her lead their relationship ninety percent of the time, knowing that her sense of safety was all bound up in her sense of control. But then, as though he could read her mind, when things got to be too much, he'd remind her that he was there, and she was allowed to lean on him.

"Dancing's much easier when you've got the right partner," Killian murmured against her temple.

Like most things, Emma thought, but didn't say. And maybe, just maybe, she was starting to believe she'd found that partner.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Happy day, everyone!  It's another party day!**

Emma watched in horror as Ruby unpacked what looked like half the liquor store from the box she'd lugged into Regina's kitchen, even as Mulan appeared with yet another box that clinked ominously.

They'd planned four signature cocktails for this party: Something Old (old fashioneds), Something New (cosmos with a splash of prosecco in them), Something Borrowed (hurricanes, which Ruby claimed they were "borrowing" from New Orleans), and Something Blue (blue curacao margaritas). There were also bottles of wine and champagne and beer. Emma had no idea how Mary Margaret was going to manage to keep her secret with this much alcohol flowing.

As though thinking of her had conjured her, Mary Margaret herself stalked into the kitchen looking disgruntled and rumpled.

"I  _hate_  James Nolan," she declared.

"James Nolan?" Regina, who had followed her in with Belle in tow, asked. "That would be the groom's brother?"

"Playing the part of best man tomorrow, and worst man every other day," Emma confirmed. "What'd he do this time?"

"He told me he thought women were supposed to lose weight for their weddings, but I looked like I'd gained at least 10 pounds!"

Mulan whistled in shock. "You want me to kill him?" she asked, only half-joking.

"If you do it tonight, I can alter his tux to fit Jeff or Arthur by tomorrow," Emma suggested.

"You'd be welcome to bury the body in the cider orchard," Regina offered. "Human decay makes wonderful fertilizer."

"Granny'd let us use her truck," Ruby said thoughtfully. "She'll be here soon."

"Richard might actually know a hitman," Belle said, softly, drawing all eyes toward her.

"No wait, seriously?" Ruby asked, incredulous.

Belle shrugged. "I'm not saying he definitely does but… I think he might."

"I honestly can't decide if that's awesome or awful," Emma said. "I let my son hang out with that guy sometimes…"

"I don't think he  _uses_  a hitman," Belle said defensively, "just that he knows one. He knows a lot of different types of people. He says it gives him… leverage."

"That… is a lot to unpack," Mary Margaret said. "But I think for now we can probably let James survive the night, though it's good to know you all have my back if I ever decide I need a contract hit."

"If you won't let us kill him, then you at least need a drink," Ruby said, turning toward the bottles she'd decoratively arrayed on the countertop.

The doorbell rang, taking everyone's attention.

"Are we waiting for anyone else?" Regina asked checking her watch. "I asked the women from the salon to come in the back entrance.

"Granny, and Ruth, and Mim," Mulan said. "I'll get the front if you want to check the back. Come on, Belle," she said, snagging her arm as she passed. "I'm not facing Mim alone."

"Thank you," Regina said to the retreating pair. "I'll be back in a moment."

"Here you go," Ruby said, producing the pink cocktail they'd dubbed 'Something New.' "That'll help you forget that you're marrying into a family that contains that idiot."

"Oh!" Mary Margaret said, staring wide-eyed at the glass that Ruby held. "Well I- uhm…" she looked at Emma over Ruby's shoulder in desperation.

Emma sighed and took a step forward, running into the edge of a counter and intentionally stumbling into Ruby, who proceeded to dump the drink she was holding all over the pair of them.

"Oh my god, Rubes, I'm so sorry!" Emma cried.

"Jesus, Emma! This kitchen is the size of my apartment! How do you manage to trip right into me?" Ruby asked, annoyed.

"Look, Rubes, I'll remake the drink, and one for you," Emma said, pulling out towels from one of the drawers and handing one to her friend. "I'll go ahead and play bartender tonight. I can't drink much anyway."

"What's the matter?" Ruby asked, hip-checking Emma a little harder than necessary. "You pregnant?"

"Not a chance," Emma said easily, not looking up at Mary Margaret as she did. Even if Killian were less-conscientious, she'd replaced her IUD only the year before. "I just have to be up at the butt-crack of dawn to get to the Inn in good time to meet Granny's catering team and my setup team."

"Speak the Devil's name and she will… blah blah blah," Ruby said as Granny, Ruth, and Mim filed into the kitchen.

"What's this?" Granny cried, seeing the dripping girls. "Have you gotten into the booze already? And here was me thinking we'd managed to get here before any hard partying had started!"

"No, Emma's apparently naturally that clumsy," Ruby said.

"Thank you very much, Ruby Lucas," Emma said, tossing her towel down on the counter. "The party's not actually meant to be held in the kitchen. Let me show you where we'll be, and then I'll start mixing drinks, what do you all say?"

~?~?~?~?~

Henry whooped, threw his controller down on the ground, and jumped up to do some kind of half-crazed victory dance.

Killian glared dubiously at the growing pyramid of cans the lads had been building. It was mostly sodas, with a couple of beers thrown in for spice. They weren't after getting scuttered, but it was the night before David's nuptials and one really couldn't make a proper toast with Coca Cola.

"How many sodas have you had, Lad?" Killian asked, suspiciously.

"Uhm…" Henry said, scrunching his nose and apparently counting in his head.

"If you have to think that hard about it, it's a damn sight too many," Killian said, shaking his head. "No more soda, aye? Juice or milk only."

"At this point he'll never get to sleep," David said, lifting his arms above his head and stretching his back muscles out.

"Emma's going to kill me," Killian said, shaking his head.

"The ol' ball-and-chain should have thought of that before making you babysit her kid tonight, shouldn't she?" James asked.

Killian and David exchanged a look, and Killian opened his mouth to explain that he didn't consider watching Henry to be 'babysitting' since, as far as he was concerned, Henry was family, but Henry spoke up first.

"What's 'ball-and-chain' mean?" he asked.

"You'll understand when you're older, kid," James said easily.

Henry frowned at this evasion and turned to Killian and David.

Killian sighed. "It's not a very nice way of referring to someone's partner," he explained, shooting James a dirty look which he ignored. "Usually a woman. You've seen those old cartoons where someone does something wrong and they put a shackle on their ankle that's attached to a chain and a big heavy ball? It keeps them from moving, like prison, but without the bars, aye? Keeps them from doing what they want."

Henry looked disturbed. "My mom isn't a prison, is she, Killian?"

"Absolutely not," he said, unequivocally. "If I felt that way about her, I wouldn't be with her, now would I, Lad?"

"Sometimes she doesn't let me do what I want to do, does that make her my ball-and-chain?" Henry asked.

"No, that makes her your mom," David said, patting Henry on the shoulder. "She only stops you doing things because she wants what's best for you."

"And the same is true for me," Killian said. "Sometimes she doesn't think one of my ideas is very clever, but it's only because she doesn't want me hurt or mad or sad, aye? And I know that, so I don't think she's a prison, I think she helps me a lot."

"Okay," Henry said quietly, still looking disturbed.

"Come on, Son," Killian said, groaning as he pushed himself off the sofa. "No more soda for you, but I'll make you some hot chocolate."

"Okay!" Henry said again, this time sounding much happier.

~?~?~?~?~

Emma stepped out onto Regina's back porch and took a long, deep breath of the bitingly cold air and revelled in the silence.

The party was going well. Mim had managed to keep her  _opinions_  to herself, and nobody seemed to have noticed that Mary Margaret was mostly drinking grenadine and Sprite rather than the actual cocktails that had been created for the evening.

Regina's salon ladies were magic. Emma's feet felt wonderful, and her toes were painted a sweet pearly pink to match her shoes for the next day. Her turn at the pedicure had been the longest Emma had been allowed off her feet, however, as her friends had gotten progressively more trashed and she'd remained sober, keeping them from acting up too badly.

Ruby had fallen asleep on Mulan's shoulder sometime around 1 AM, and Granny and Ruth were fleecing Mim at poker. Mary Margaret had vanished into an upstairs bedroom two hours ago, and Regina was nowhere to be found, so Emma had taken the chance to step outside and be alone.

"Mary Margaret is pregnant, isn't she?"

Emma didn't turn to greet her mother, she just held herself tighter against the cold and nodded.

"Guess I wasn't as good as keeping her secret as I thought," she said to the cloud-covered stars.

"You were fine. She has the acting skills of a gnat," Regina answered sharply. "She's happy about it?" she asked, her voice going softer.

"Over the moon," Emma said, smiling. "But she doesn't want people to know until after the wedding. I promised I'd keep her secret."

"As if you haven't got a thousand other things to do on her behalf," Regina said, shaking her head. "Ah well, the things we do for love."

Emma closed her eyes and sighed, a deep breath in through her nose, and then out as a white cloud of dragon's breath in the night air.

"There's at least a little bit of good news," she said, smiling suddenly. "Mary Margaret is going to get her white wedding."

~?~?~?~?~

Killian stepped out of the farmhouse and into the cold night air. Sometimes he wished he still smoked. It gave him an excuse to step away from people and just enjoy some quiet.

It was pushing 2 AM and Henry had finally conked out. Leo had gone to bed ages back, and James had tried to talk Killian and David into a game of poker and some whisky now that the lad was asleep, but Killian had said he needed air.

What he needed was for this whole stupid wedding to be done and to have Emma back to herself. He was happy for David and Mary Margaret, make no mistake, but he missed when things had been peaceful.

"I expect Emma told you about us," David said, closing the door to the porch behind him."

"You and me, us?" Killian asked.

"No! Me and Mary Margaret!"

"All she told me is that Mary Margaret had a secret and she wasn't allowed to tell anyone," Killian said.

"What?" David asked, blankly.

"Did you not ask her to keep it a secret?"

"No, we did, but I figured-"

"When Emma is asked to keep a secret, she does. I realize that's a novelty in Storybrooke-"

"Hey!"

Killian raised an eyebrow at David. "Am I wrong?"

David sighed. "No. But I didn't mean for her not to tell you. I should have said. But that means I get to tell you- Mary Margaret and I are going to have a baby!"

Everything from the last few days clicked into place for Killian- Mary Margaret's barging into the house like she had, Emma's vanishing for the day, her running around dealing with details that he was sure had already been dealt with. Hell, the two girls had spent nearly two hours the previous day holed up in Emma's sewing room with that damned wedding dress which he could have sworn had been ready for a month.

"Maith thú, mate," Killian said, pulling David in for a hug. "You'll be brilliant parents, the pair of you."

David grinned, looking almost painfully happy.

At that moment, there were two tiny frozen kisses on Killian's cheeks and he looked up to see that it was snowing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A long, long chapter for this fine Fanfiction Friday!**
> 
>  
> 
> **Next week, because it's WLG's birthday, the first chapter of a new story is going to go up.  I've not 100% decided what it's called, but probably _The Stars that Listen_   It'll be a story that combines my Orphan of Arcadia series with the A Court of Thorns and Roses series, because I'm an insane person.**
> 
>  
> 
> **As for this week, everyone read and enjoy on behalf of my dear husband who turns 30 this weekend!**

Emma clenched her teeth and the steering wheel and wondered if this was the year she would finally give in and give up on the Bug.

In any month without a "r" in the name, she loved her old Bug. It was the avatar of an independence gained inch-by-inch from a world that had never seemed willing to deal her a winning hand. It was the first thing she'd ever done for Henry- buy that car and take him away to the place where she'd been able to give him his best chance.

Still, she lived in Maine, and for the rest of the year when snow and ice were not just likely but inevitable, she questioned the choice and seriously considered the benefits of something a little newer with four-wheel drive.

She was lucky today, if she were honest. It was barely six, dark and freezing and the road was covered in snow and she'd only had the one cup of coffee before leaving Regina's place, but it had been cold long enough that the snow had stuck immediately, even to the roads, rather than melting and re-freezing into lethal ice. It would be different later when people had been driving on the roads, turning the snow into slush and then refreezing it into black ice.

When Emma parked in the service lot at the Inn, she half wondered if she'd get the car out again before spring. There was no time to think too much about it, however, because the French's Flowers truck pulled in just after her and duty called.

Almost four hours later, around 10, Emma was starving, needed to pee, still hadn't had another cup of coffee, had moved and re-moved the tables in the reception hall so many times her arm muscles were trembling, and thought she might scream if one more problem came up.

"Emma?"

She bit her tongue hard and took a long breath through her nose before turning to face Granny. It would be a Very Bad Idea to cuss out her employer.

Once she turned around, she was glad she'd held onto her temper because Granny was holding a plate with a muffin and an enormous mug of coffee.

"You looked like you could use a break, girl," Granny said, jerking her head in the direction of her office and leading Emma toward it.

Emma dropped heavily into the second chair in the office and accepted the cup of coffee with a moan of pleasure.

"Granny, if I weren't so tired and didn't want to one-up Mary Margaret, I'd get on my knees and propose to you right now," she said after a long, slow sip of the water of life.

Granny snorted as she set the muffin down on the table and went around to sit in her own chair at the desk.

"You're pretty enough," she said after apparently giving the matter some thought, "but you're too young for me."

Emma raised her eyebrows and smiled for what felt like the first time today. "I'm too young for you? And here was me thinking it was usually the other way around. Don't people usually want partners younger than them?"

"Shows what you know," Granny said. "You young things could use a bit of wisdom in your lives, but I like experience, if you know what I mean."

Emma shook with silent laughter as Granny grinned lasciviously.

"Maybe in a few years then?" Emma said finally.

"Maybe," Granny said with a shrug. "Some people grow up slower than others, and once you're feeling a bit more yourself, you'll remember why you're so fond of that Jones boy."

"He is pretty," Emma said with a shrug.

"I suppose, if you like such things. I did have a question for you though, Emma."

"About Killian?"

"About Mary Margaret, actually."

Emma went still wondering if she'd blown Mary Margaret's cover again.

"Why would that silly girl plan a December wedding with asparagus on the menu? She knows anything we get this time of year is going to be tough as wood!"

Emma relaxed, and grinned at Granny's complaints.

"Spinach we could have done. Mushrooms. Any number of squashes. Carrots. There are plenty of spring vegetables that keep, but not asparagus!"

"They're her favorite," Emma said around a bite of muffin.

"And you have to give pregnant women what they want," Granny said.

Emma choked on her muffin and doubled over coughing. Granny waited patiently until she sat back and met her eyes steadily.

"Since when is Mary Margaret pregnant?" she asked easily, wiping tears from her eyes.

Granny smiled. "Thought so." She waved her hand to stop Emma as she opened her mouth to respond. "Save it. I didn't get it from you. I've known for weeks." She tapped her nose. "I've got an instinct for that kind of thing. I'll be sure there's ginger ale in her champagne glass for the toast, right?"

Emma nodded. She'd been planning on sneaking into the kitchen to facilitate the switch, but having Granny on her team would make things so much easier.

"Why are they bothering to hide it?" Granny asked. "She can't be more than a month or six weeks along."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Search me. Probably because they want to give me an ulcer."

Granny reached forward and patted Emma's hand. "You're doing fine. I wouldn't have known you were acting weird if not for already knowing she was pregnant and wondering how she kept drinking all those drinks last night." She grinned. "You could have been a thief, you're that good at sleight-of-hand."

"It was a serious consideration before I found you chasing wolves with a crossbow back when," Emma said.

Granny seemed un-surprised by this revelation, and only nodded. "You'd have been great at it. You'll be great no matter what you decide you want to do with your life."

Emma went still again.

"Sheriff had been avoiding me for weeks," Granny said, leaning back in her chair and looking at Emma over the top of her steel-rimmed glasses. "So I went down to the station and made him tell me what was up. Said he was attempting to poach one of my best employees."

"I-" Emma started, but Granny waved her explanation away.

"The Inn was here when you needed it," Granny said seriously, her voice gentler than Emma thought she'd ever heard it, "and you've done right by it and by me, but it's well past time that you got to figure out what it is you want. Mary Margaret discovered that cooking was her true love. Ruby could have gone anywhere with that MBA of hers, but she came back here to me. Even I ran a diner in a different town for awhile before coming back and taking this place over from my mother… It's your turn, Emma. If what you want is the Inn, then it'll be here, but whatever you might have owed us has been paid back a hundred times already."

"Granny, I-"

Granny cleared her throat, interrupting Emma again, and when she spoke her voice was sharp and businesslike again.

"Now then, this is no time to get sentimental. Whatever you decide to do after Mary Margaret gets back from her honeymoon, I'll support you, but today we have to get that silly thing married, don't we?"

Emma smiled. "Yeah, we do. Thanks for the coffee, Granny."

Outside of the office, two of her setup team, Mr. French, and Archie Hopper were waiting for Emma.

The setup team wanted to know how many banquet tables needed to be set up for the food, and Emma was happy to turn them over to Granny who was in charge of catering. She turned next to Mr. French, who indicated a quantity of white boxes.

"Bouquets and boutineers," he said simply.

"Ah, those should go in the dressing rooms," Emma said. "I'll show you- actually, can you wait three minutes?"

Mr. French raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I left my dress, shoes, and makeup out in the car, may as well grab them since we're going."

"Ah, yes of course."

Emma beckoned to Archie. "Come with me, we can talk and walk at the same time."

Archie supplemented his income as school superintendent by being a freelance photographer, and he was going to be photographing the wedding.

"Do you have the time?" Emma asked as they made their way to the parking lot.

Archie glanced at his phone. "11:30."

"The rest of the girls are due any time, and the guys about an hour later. How are the roads?"

"Not so bad now, but tomorrow we might all be iced into our houses."

"Damn," Emma said without heat. "I promised Henry we'd get a Christmas tree tomorrow before he leaves for his dad's."

"Henry will be spending Christmas with his father?" Archie asked.

Emma glanced sideways at him. "That was a very 'psychologist' sort of a question, Dr. Hopper."

"Sorry," he said with a sheepish smile. "Old habits. Is Henry excited?"

"I think so, but not unequivocally. His dad was a little manipulative about it, and Henry asked the other day how many times he was allowed to call me so…" Emma trailed off.

"My family drama is beside the point, however," she said once they reached the car. "Mary Margaret and David have planned a bunch of outdoor shoots for the spring-" or they had before realizing that spring would have Mary Margaret approaching her sixth month of pregnancy, but Emma didn't say that to Archie, "-so today is all indoors, is that right?"

She knew it was, but she figured Archie was allowed into this conversation as well.

"You made that dress, didn't you?" Archie asked, examining the garment she'd just pulled from her backseat.

"Yeah," Emma said. "All the bridesmaid dresses. Not the wedding gown though."

"It's impressive nevertheless. So I understand I should be planning to do a few candid or staged candid shots once the wedding party arrives, is that correct?"

"Yeah," Emma said, leading him back toward the for and out of the cold. "I'd prefer not to have photos of the Inn looking trashed, but some photos of the two groups getting ready… I've actually got an idea for one I think would be really cool: if you can get a shot of James doing up David's bowtie or something."

"James?"

"Dave's twin brother. Have you met him?"

"I don't believe I have."

"You'll be shocked," Emma said. "The pair of them look so alike it's scary. They  _are_  nothing alike, but they look like one guy playing two parts."

This line of conversation was interrupted by two quick blasts from a car horn as Ruby's red Mini turned into the lot to pull alongside the Bug, followed closely by Mary Margaret's silver van.

"The gang's all here," Emma said with a grin as Mulan, Ruby, and Belle tumbled out of the Mini, and Ruth, Mim, and Mary Margaret appeared out of the other. "Come on in, they know the way."

Once inside, Emma beckoned to Mr. French and continued to walk and talk.

"Ceremony is in there-" she gestured as they passed, "-so that's probably where you'll want to set up the tripod. Reception in the dining room, of course. Photos of the cake, cutting the cake, the dancing… the whole nine."

"The kitchen smells amazing," Archie said.

"Don't go in there if you don't want a cleaver through the sternum, but if you catch Granny  _outside_  the kitchen and can give her good enough puppy dog eyes, I have it on good authority she can be talked out of a muffin and/or some coffee."

"And here," Emma said, giving a flourish outside a room, "is where the girls are getting ready. Mr. French, which of these boxes are the girls'?"

"The three on the top, and the big one on the bottom," he said.

"Here, I'll take these," Emma said, reaching for the ones on top. "Archie, if you could take those for a moment, I can maybe-"

"Oh! Let me help!" Mulan cried from across the room. She rushed up to join them and took the large box from Mr. French, saving Emma having to grow another pair of hands.

"Thanks Mulan," Emma said, re-adjusting her dress, her boxes, and her shoes. "Mr. French, if you could grab the door?"

The little room had been added on in the '50s and renovated in the early 2000s. It had three vanities with lighted mirrors and a three-way full-length mirror, as well as its own tiny private bathroom attached. Emma set her three boxes down on one vanity, her makeup box on another, hung up her dress on the back of a chair and tossed her shoes into a corner.

"You're going to scuff those," Mulan said as she opened the top of the bridal bouquet box and peeked in.

Emma joined her and smiled. The bouquet was perfect- pink and cream roses and snowdrops, accented with folded paper roses that Mulan had made. Emma touched one of these last.

"What books did she decide on?" Emma asked.

"An old copy of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves that was her mom's."

"She let you tear pages out of that?"

Mulan rolled her eyes. "We photocopied pages, Emma, don't be absurd."

Emma shrugged and opened one of the bridesmaid boxes. These were much smaller, with only cream roses and a simple pink silk ribbon around the base.

"Emma?" Archie was at the door, averting his eyes and blushing furiously as though there were already girls changing, rather than just her and Mulan looking at flowers. "The- the guys?" he stammered.

"Yeah, sorry," Emma said, closing the lid of the box. "I'll be back in a bit, Mulan, don't get into trouble."

Mulan finally looked up from the flowers and shot Emma an arched-eyebrow Look which Emma met with a grin. Mulan was, of all of them, the least likely to get herself into trouble.

Emma slipped out the door and led Archie and Mr. French to the mirror image of the girls' dressing room on the other side. Archie looked around as she and Mr. French arranged the boxes on the counter. Emma peeked in the one with Dave's name scrawled across the top- a blooming cream rose and a pink rosebud. The other guys' would be smaller, just the pink rosebud.

"Thanks Mr. French, they're perfect," Emma said, and the older man beamed.

"Naturally we would want nothing less for Mary Margaret's big day. Though," he leaned in close, whispering conspiratorially to Emma, "it's really all practice for when my Belle finally deigns to get married."

Emma grinned. "Don't worry, I'll get her in front of that bouquet this afternoon if it's the last thing I do."

Mr. French chuckled. "Well, if you accidentally manage to catch it my dear, I won't be too sorry you know."

Emma's fingers went cold at the thought, but she kept smiling as Mr. French said he needed to go check how his assistants were doing setting up for the ceremony.

Archie offered to walk with him, as he was going the same place, but before he left he leaned down to Emma's ear. "It's a wedding, Emma," he whispered. "Probably best not to look quite that panicked at the thought of marriage."

Emma watched him go, her mouth twisted into an irritated knot. Easy for him to say, she thought. Marriage was made for people like Archie- dependable, stable, emotionally available. For someone like Emma, it was a disaster waiting to happen, she just knew it.

"Emma!"

She was deep enough in her depressing thoughts that Ruby's voice from across the lobby made Emma jump.

Ruby was all beaming smiles, in contrast to Emma's dark thoughts, and ran up to Emma and wrapped her in a hug before Emma could stop her.

"Isn't it wonderful?" Ruby asked with one more tight squeeze before letting Emma go.

Emma was perplexed. "Mostly I'm just glad it's finally here. Feels like we've been working on this for three years, not five months."

Ruby pulled away from Emma and cocked her head. "What are you talking about?"

Emma raised an eyebrow. "The wedding… what are  _you_ talking about?"

"The  _baby_ , of course!" Ruby said.

Emma glanced around, her heart sinking. Ruby was not being quiet, but the lobby was empty.

She glanced Ruby up and down before meeting her large brown eyes with an ironic twist of the mouth.

"I realize I failed high school biology, but I'm pretty sure, no matter how hard you try, you and Mulan  _cannot_ have a baby," Emma said, trying to play it off. "So unless there's something you need to confess…"

Ruby frowned. "Wait, I thought you knew! Mary Margaret is-"

"I  _do_ know," Emma hissed, interrupting Ruby before she could finish. "I was also told not to tell anyone because it's a  _secret_. Who told you?"

"Mary Margaret," Ruby said, then suddenly seemed to realize she was speaking loud enough to be overheard, lowered her voice. "She said it was a secret, but I didn't figure she meant secret from  _you_. You're family, and besides, you wouldn't tell anyone."

"Right, I wouldn't tell anyone because 'secret' doesn't mean don't tell anyone but people you like. It means don't tell anyone. Who else did you tell?"

"Mulan, that's it."

Emma rolled her eyes.

"You can't tell me you didn't tell Killian and Henry, so you don't get to-"

"Of course I didn't tell Killian and Henry," Emma said. "Mary Margaret and David swore me to secrecy."

"Wait, really?" Ruby said, finally stopped in her tracks. "You didn't even tell  _them_?"

Emma sighed and opened her mouth to explain, yet again, what it meant to keep a secret, but they were both interrupted by a clamor at the front door.

"Hey Emma, hey Ruby," David said, pushing the door in backward as his arms were full of two garment bags and a pair of shoes.

"David!" Emma and Ruby cried together, completely distracted from their argument by this development. The two girls rushed over to David and started herding him into the men's dressing room as quickly as possible.

"You're an hour early!" Ruby cried.

"Mary Margaret isn't in the dressing room, she only just got here!" Emma said.

"She could walk in any minute- you could see her and ruin everything!" Ruby said.

"What are you doing here?"

David looked bemusedly at the two girls shoving him into the small room, though he went meekly enough.

"I wasn't sure what the roads were going to be like, so we gave ourselves extra time. Figured it was better to be early than late."

Emma closed the dressing room door behind her and met Ruby's eyes, sighing.

"Okay, true," Ruby said, sounding grumpy. "We probably can't be annoyed with you for that."

"But you do have to stay in here until we get Mary Margaret corralled," Emma said. "We're at the last minute now, and we're not letting  _anything_ ruin this day."

David swallowed hard at the look in Emma's eyes and glanced at Ruby. "Is she a little scary?"

Ruby just grinned her wolf's grin. "Who better to make sure your day goes off without a hitch?"

"Where is Mary Margaret anyway?" David asked.

"I suspect she's trying to sneak into the kitchen," Emma said.

"Don't worry, Granny's got her covered."

"How is she doing?" David asked.

"Terrified," Ruby said cheerfully. "Barely kept down her breakfast."

"Nerves," Emma assured them both as David opened his mouth. "Granny'll make her some tea. Where are the other guys-" she started to ask, before there was a shriek in the main lobby.

"Mary Margaret," Ruby said as she and Emma ran for the door.

"No, you stay put," Emma said to David. "We'll get you if it's serious."

In the lobby, the issue became apparent immediately as James was embarrassedly trying to calm Mary Margaret who was blushing like a rose.

"I was afraid of that," Emma said, shaking her head. "Looks like Mary Margaret mistook James for David."

"She really is in a state, she's never done that before," Ruby said.

Ruby went to Mary Margaret and put a comforting arm around her shoulders as the red began to drain from her face, leaving her looking a little pale and sweaty.

"Take her into the dressing room," Emma said quietly as it looked like Mary Margaret might be sick. "Then see if Mulan can talk Granny out of some ginger tea."

Ruby nodded and led Mary Margaret away, leaving Emma to turn to James, who looked nearly as shocked as Mary Margaret had, but less sickly with it.

"I'm so sorry-" he said, and for the first time since she'd met him, he  _sounded_ like David.

"It's okay," Emma said gently. "Ruby and I were so worried about what would happen if she actually saw David that we didn't think what might happen if she saw you."

"Yeah, apparently." He laid his hand on his chest. "I feel like I'm gonna have a heart attack. My new sister-in-law has  _lungs_."

"She's… nervous," Emma said, suddenly wondering what Mary Margaret's baby would be like given its mother's impressive ability to scream. It hardly bore thinking.

"Honestly though," James continued, "who screams like that just because you might have broken some old superstition? Like not seeing your future husband will fix the fact that half of marriages fail? That's why I'm single. Women are psycho."

And with that, any resemblance to David vanished.

"Charming," Emma muttered. "How 'bout you go check on Dave then? He heard that scream and he's going to need some reassurance." James opened his mouth to speak, but Emma cut him off. "If you say something about how you'll help him run away from his wedding, I swear to God, James, I won't be responsible for my actions. Just get in the dressing room."

Emma didn't know what he might have said to that, Henry burst in the front door in that moment, happy and loud, rushing up to her for a hug. He was wearing an unfamiliar knit cap pulled low over his ears, but when Emma leaned down to press her cheek to the top of his head, it smelled strongly of Killian's shampoo.

Killian himself walked through the door next, his cheeks and ears red with the cold, carrying a pair of garment bags over one shoulder. He gave her a smile and a nod as he passed, but didn't stop on his way into the men's dressing room to drop off the bags. Once that was done, he jogged back out the front door without a backward glance.

Emma was tempted to help him, but Henry was telling her about the previous evening in his usual excited, disjointed way.

"We got pizza and played video games. We all played separate at first, and I did pretty good, but Leo didn't so he stopped playing, then we split into teams and Killian and I were winning but he said since it's David's wedding we should let him win so we did. I drank five Cokes!"

"Did you sleep?" Emma asked. She didn't think being up all night would hurt him much, he was only 11 after all, but she was curious about how much control the guys had tried to wield.

"Yeah, but David and Killian didn't make me go to bed until almost  _two_ AM!"

Emma rolled her eyes and shook her head as Killian came back in the front carrying what appeared to be a duffel bag. He raised an eyebrow at her and she shook her head again.

Once he had tossed the duffel into the men's dressing room, he crossed the lobby to them.

"Bloody hell, it's freezing out there. Budge up, Lad, your mum's the only warm thing in this place," he said, and then wrapped Emma in a hug and buried his cold face at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

"Geeze, you're an ice cube!" Emma cried, pushing ineffectually at his shoulders. "You let my son drink an obscene amount of soda and stay up until 2, I don't know that I'm willing to share warmth with you," she added, though she did lift her hands- not especially warm, but warmer than he was- to cover his ears.

"It was a stag 'do, Love," Killian muttered into her shoulder as Henry laughed. "You're lucky we kept him out of the whisky, cigars, and loose women."

"There weren't any women!" Henry said.

Killian finally lifted his head from Emma's shoulder. "That  _you_  were privy to, my lad. How would you know what we got up to after you conked out-" he began, but was interrupted by a huge yawn.

"Blimey," he muttered. "I am not made for staying up that late anymore."

"I feel great!" Henry said.

"You would," Killian grumbled.

"You're a groomsman, Jones," Emma said. "No sleeping on the job."

"Tyrant," he said, but smiled gently at her. "Come along then, Lad," he said, turning to Henry. "You and I must endeavour to become beautiful, and unlike your mum it'll actually take some work for us. Best get started now."

Henry nodded and hurried toward the dressing room, leaving Killian and Emma alone for the moment.

"Dave told me about the baby," he murmured quietly to her.

"He told you?" Emma asked, keeping her voice down as well. "Kill, I'm sorry I-"

"Don't be stupid, Love," Killian interrupted. "It was a secret, and not yours to tell."

"Mary Margaret told Ruby, who told Mulan, and I wouldn't be surprised if she's told Belle too. Regina and Granny both figured her out  _without_ her having to tell them. Some secret."

Killian shrugged. "Mary Margaret was always rubbish at keeping secrets. How is she doing?"

Emma shook her head. "She was doing fine until she saw James and mistook him for Dave and had a serious freakout. She's probably puking her guts out now."

"Poor thing," Killian said. "Anything I can do?"

"Keep the guys corralled, keep David from having a panic attack, and be sure everyone's dressed and ready when the time comes."

Killian stepped back from her, clicked his heels and saluted. "Aye aye, Captain," he said with a grin.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **THIS IS NOT A DRILL**
> 
> **TODAY IS WHOLOCKGAL'S BIRTHDAY**
> 
> **SHE IS [REDACTED] YEARS OLD TODAY AND DESERVES LOVE AND KISSES AND COMMENTS.**
> 
> **"What should we do for WLG for her birthday?" I hear you, my dear readers, asking.**
> 
> **You should go to her page and read one or more of her stories and leave comments.**
> 
> **In absence of that, you should read her birthday story that I wrote, The Stars that Listen, on my own page, and comment there and tell her that you love her. She'll be keeping an eye in over there.**
> 
> **So yeah, second-best day of the year, kids! Happy Birthday to WLG!**

Mulan stuck another bobby pin in Emma's hair as Belle dug through her makeup kit and Mary Margaret retched in the bathroom.

Granny walked in without knocking, which made Emma jump slightly until she saw who it was, and Mulan cuss at her in Cantonese.

"I'm never going to get this finished if you can't sit still, Swan," Mulan said, switching back to English.

"Rate you're going, you're just never going to get it done," Emma complained.

"You wanna finish it yourself?" Mulan asked threateningly.

"I see the tempers are faring just as expected for this point in the proceedings," Granny said, sounding disgustingly cheerful. "I have something that might help."

"Booze?" Ruby asked.

"Cyanide?" Emma suggested.

"Duct tape?" Mulan guessed, shoving Emma's head back into position.

"Dramamine," Granny said as Mary Margaret stepped out of the bathroom looking pale and clammy in her slip. Emma had insisted she not be allowed anywhere near the gown until she stopped throwing up. "For Queen Nerves here."

"Nerves?" Belle asked. "I thought it was morning sickness."

Emma groaned and would have laid her head down on the vanity, but Mulan kept a tight hold on it.

"You know too?" she asked.

Belle looked around the room in surprise. "Mary Margaret told me this morning. I figured you all knew."

"I am going to get the dictionary definition of the word 'secret' printed flag size and hang it in front of town hall," Emma muttered.

"Mary Margaret has always been dreadful with a secret," Granny said fondly. "I'm surprised it took this long for you all to find out."

"Not everybody knows," Mary Margaret objected.

" _Regina_  knows," Emma said. "She doesn't even live in this town."

"How does Regina know?" Mary Margaret asked, shocked.

"Apparently you're a crap actor," Emma said.

"Oh," Mary Margaret said, deflated and slouched into a chair at the vanity.

"Here," Granny said, holding out a hand with two pills. "Take those with the ginger tea, then we can get you into that dress."

Mary Margaret looked up from the hand in front of her to Granny's face.

"Who told you?" she asked suspiciously. "Ruby or Emma?"

Granny snorted. "I've known for two weeks. Just 'cause I'm old doesn't mean I don't have a brain in my head. Take the pills."

Mary Margaret frowned. "I dunno," she said. "What if-"

"I checked the American Association of Family Physicians website, and they say it's fine," Granny said. "Your other option is to leave David at the altar during your vows so you can puke in the ficus, and then  _everyone_ will know if they don't already."

Mary Margaret grabbed the pills without delay and swallowed them quickly.

"Good," Belle said, taking a seat next to Mary Margaret. "Now we'll get your face on to give that time to settle, then Ruby and Emma can get you into your dress."

"Done!" Mulan said triumphantly after another bobby pin found its way into Emma's hair. "No, don't move, I've got to spray it!" she added as Emma looked like she was about to get up.

"Don't say 'done' if it's not done!" Emma complained. "I need to check on the guys!"

"They're all adults, they'll be fine," Ruby said.

"Henry is  _eleven_ ," Emma said. "And even he is better-behaved than James."

"Don't trust Killian to keep them in line?" Ruby asked.

"He's going to have his hands full keeping David from busting down this door to take care of Mary Margaret," Emma said.

"Cover your eyes," Mulan instructed before blasting the back of her head with a cloud of hairspray.

"Who needs an ozone?" Emma asked, coughing, when she was done.

"It's 2016, not the 90s," Mulan said, finally letting Emma get up. "My hairspray has been CFC-free for two decades."

Emma examined herself in the mirror. Mulan had done a braid that coiled over the crown of her head like a tiara, and though Emma knew how many pins and how much spray held it in place, still it looked loose and romantic.

"You're an artist," Emma said, "even if you are slow."

"You're a decent canvas," Mulan answered, "even if you are a pain."

Emma laughed cheerfully and waved before slipping out the door with Granny on her bare heels- she had too much to do to wear her stilettos just yet.

"I hope there's nothing to worry about," Granny said once they were out. "I hate to think she's that sick this early."

"She'd be throwing up from nerves regardless," Emma said. "The other's just a handy excuse. I don't think there's a problem."

Emma crossed to the men's room and knocked on the door. "You boys decent in there?" she asked. Given that they were just over an hour until the Moment, they had damned well better be.

"Yes, but we can fix that for you if you give us a minute."

James, Emma diagnosed. She just rolled her eyes and let herself into the room.

"How's Mary Margaret?" David asked, rushing up to her before she could even get the door shut behind herself.

"She's fine, Dave," Emma said, patting his shoulder. "Nervous, but so are you. God, give me that flower. The way you're shaking, you'll open a vein with that pin."

She took the boutineer out of David's cold hands and pinned it efficiently to his lapel.

"Honestly though," David pleaded. "How is she?"

"Honestly, she's fine. Granny got her some dramamine for her stomach."

"Jeeze," James said- he was stretched out in a chair dressed but barefoot, with his bow tie untied. "You'd think a chef would have a stronger stomach."

Emma raised an eyebrow at David who shook his head.

"It's just nerves," Emma said. "Need help with your tie, James?"

"I've already offered," Killian said. He was on one knee in front of Henry's chair finishing up tying Henry's.

"You're not a pretty girl in a short pink dress," James said, grinning lasciviously.

"I was going to recommend Granny," Emma said, blandly. "She's much better at it than I am."

"You're done, Lad," Killian said, patting Henry's chest. "Take a look and see how you like it."

Henry jumped up and grinned at himself in the mirror, patting the rose-pink tie he wore. Killian got up more slowly with a low groan, and stretched.

"Your tie's crooked, Jones," Emma said.

"Damn," Killian muttered, checking himself in the mirror and seeing it was true. "It's a matter of the barefoot cobbler," he added as he began to untie it.

"Let me," she said, stepping up to him.

"Hey!" James cried, but everyone ignored him.

Emma set to the silk strip Killian was wearing with brisk efficiency. As she finished though, she glanced up and met his eyes, bright and hot as the heart of a flame.

"This is a service you provide every bloke comes in here for a wedding, is it?" he murmured low enough that Henry was unlikely to overhear.

"Jealous, Jones?" she asked just as quietly.

He gave a low growl in his throat by way of an answer. "Is your lipstick smudge-proof?" he asked quietly, leaning toward her.

"Down boy," she said, setting a hand in the middle of his chest. "No distractions until Dave's made an honest woman of our Mary Margaret."

She turned back to the rest of the room and raised her voice again. "I need to go check on the setup. David, you should come with me. Walk off some of those jitters." She took his arm and steered him out the door without allowing him to get a protest out.

Once back in the lobby, she punched David's arm as hard as she could.

"Ow," he said, rubbing the spot she'd just hit. "What was that for?"

"Half this stupid town knows about the -" she glanced around the empty lobby, then lowered her voice to a whisper anyway, " _-baby-_ " she raised her voice again, "-because Mary Margaret can't keep a secret and you haven't told your  _brother_?" She reared back to hit him again.

David caught her hand before she could. "It's not my fault Mary Margaret has told all the girls!" he whisper-shouted.

"You told Killian!"

"I like Killian better than I like James," David said, glancing at the door to the room where the guys were to be sure it was closed.

"He's your brother."

"That's hardly my fault, is it?" David asked.

Emma couldn't help but laugh at that. "Fine," she said, releasing her fist. "But you two are impossible, you know that? Next time you two get married, don't come crying to me."

David just grinned at her. "Don't worry, Ems. This is a once-in-a-lifetime event."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **It's finally here you guys!  The wedding!  I hope you love it!**
> 
> **For reference/reminder, here is[Mary Margaret's dress](https://img.buzzfeed.com/buzzfeed-static/static/2017-04/5/11/asset/buzzfeed-prod-fastlane-01/sub-buzz-20453-1491406284-1.jpg?downsize=715:*&output-format=auto&output-quality=auto), here is her "[something borrowed](https://cdn11.bigcommerce.com/s-9459e/images/stencil/original/products/479/1052/pearl_earring__08998.1364587145.jpg?c=2)," and here is her "[something new](https://i.ebayimg.com/images/g/j5wAAOSwFPRZ2vLw/s-l300.jpg)."**

Mary Margaret's fingers were linked with Emma's so tight that Emma was beginning to lose feeling. She didn't pull away though- they were T-minus 5 minutes until Go Time, and anything Mary Margaret needed at this moment, Emma was going to do her best to provide. Leo stood with them, his unassuming presence rather soothing, but Mary Margaret continued to cling to Emma.

"Hey," Emma said, not letting go of her friend's hand, but resting the other on her shoulder so Mary Margaret was forced to look at her, "stop worrying. Anything you've got left that's making you nervous? That's for me to worry about. Your job now is to get up there and vow to spend the rest of your life with the love of your life. Everything else is my job."

"Emma-"

"No." Emma cut Mary Margaret off. "You don't worry about anything, okay? I won't let you. All you get to do now is go out there and dazzle the pants off of our David. You're gonna do it, you know."

She was, too. Between Granny's dramamine and Belle's paints, she no longer looked sick and pale. She looked, frankly, glowing.

Her dress was more perfect than it had been in the shop- Emma had added lace from Mary Margaret's mother's wedding dress, which had also been on her grandmother and great-grandmother's dresses too, her "something old." Mulan and Belle had collaborated to make a tiara of gold wire and pearl flowers for her hair, her "something new." Emma had loaned her a pair of earrings that Regina had bought for her on her 16th birthday, little flowers with a single pearl drop, her "something borrowed." Finally, Mary Margaret was wearing a birthstone ring her parents had given her as a teen with three sapphires set into it on the thumb of her right hand, her "something blue."

"You're going to end today as Mrs. David Nolan, and nothing else matters to you, okay?" Emma said.

Mary Margaret smiled. "I'm so lucky."

"Babe," Emma said with a grin, "Dave's the lucky one. Fortunately he knows it, otherwise we wouldn't be here."

"Not just him," Mary Margaret said. "I'm really lucky I have you." Then she reached up and pulled Emma in for a hug.

Emma hugged her back- the woman who was more sister than friend, and more family than almost anyone else in the world- until she heard a telltale sniffle.

"Hey!" she cried, pulling back so she could look at Mary Margaret's face. "None of that! I know Belle did the research to find the best waterproof mascara in the world, but we're not testing it just now! Not yet."

Mary Margaret gave a watery chuckle as Emma pulled a couple of tissues from a box sitting nearby and handed them to her.

"The guys are in place!"

Emma turned to find Mulan peeking around the screen that hid Mary Margaret from the view of the chapel. Since she wasn't a bridesmaid, Emma had recruited her as spy while she had been handling the bride.

"You have about 30 seconds before your march starts, Em!"

Emma turned quickly to Mary Margaret. "Remember, I've got everything under control. All you do now is marry David." Impulsively, Emma kissed Mary Margaret's cheek, then quickly hurried off to take her place at the front of the line of bridesmaids just as the march started. Ruby handed her her flowers and the little black box that held David's ring, and she started down the aisle at a slow, sedate march by the music's third measure.

Emma smiled to see the guys arrayed at the front in their tuxedos- Henry on the end beside Killian, looking proud and just a bit twitchy, his bowtie already slightly crooked. Killian looked edible- a tuxedo with pink waistcoat and tie wouldn't suit every man, but he managed to pull it off with swagger. David looked tense and expectant, but handsome standing a step down from the other guys, in the middle, waiting.

There was a slight disturbance in the crowd, and Emma glanced over to see Regina on the bride's side, phone out, snapping a photo in clear defiance of all of the signs. Emma kept her smile in place, but started planning the annoyed lecture she'd give her mother as soon as the reception started.

Finally at the front, the girls turned and arrayed themselves on the stage and the music transitioned seamlessly from Pachelbel's Canon to the Wedding March. Like a single, many-headed entity, the crowd stood and turned and sighed as Mary Margaret and Leo appeared in the entryway.

Emma only gave Mary Margaret a passing glance- she was perfect, of course- before turning her attention to David, and smiling.

He didn't look tense anymore. He looked like he'd been hit over the head with a hammer. His jaw was loose, his eyes were wide, and Emma wondered for a moment if James was going to have to catch him before he fell over. But David seemed to come to himself and started to smile like he knew he was the luckiest guy in the world.

Emma glanced at the men ranged behind Dave. James was, for once, on his best behavior. He watched Mary Margaret and smiled politely. Killian was watching her too, but he looked proud, and his smile was completely genuine. Henry was grinning and bouncing on his toes, looking just about as thrilled as Emma had ever seen him.

God, she thought to herself, watching him and feeling like she might cry, he was  _such_ a good kid. How had  _she_ ever raised such a good kid?

As though drawn there, Emma looked again at Killian and found him watching her instead of Mary Margaret. He was still smiling, but it was deeper somehow. Warmer. More intimate. More… just  _more_.

Then Mary Margaret and Leo reached the front, and moment was broken. Leo kissed his daughter's cheek, whispered something that made her smile, and stepped back so that David could step forward and take her hands.

They were so beautiful, Emma thought. So perfect for each other. So in love. The princess and her prince charming.

"Dearly beloved," the minister began- that old liturgy about faith, hope, and love, with the greatest of these being love.

Mary Margaret's family was nominally Catholic, and though she had opted against a church wedding, and absolutely  _refused_ a full mass, some things are bred in the bone.

"The Lord God created man," the minister said, "and saw straight away that it was not right that he should be alone. So he created woman to stand beside him as companion and helpmeet. Not his cook-" the audience chuckled, "-nor his dishwasher, nor even the mother of his children. God did not make woman as less than man, but because he saw that his creation, which he loved, was alone, and he knew that no one should be alone."

It continued in like vein- carefully egalitarian, for Mary Margaret and David had insisted on as much, but citing the scripture in such a way that even the most religious among them could not help but agree.

Finally the minister wound down and turned to David.

"Please repeat after me," the minister said. "I, David Joshua Nolan-"

"I, David Joshua Nolan."

"Take you, Mary Margaret Blanchard-"

"Take you, Mary Margaret Blanchard."

"To be my wife. To stand beside me in famine and in feast. To see the best in me on my worst days and to celebrate with me on my best days. To care for me when I am sick, and to accept my care when you are sick. To take my hand and face all future trials together, and to never let the past stop us from becoming the best we can possibly be.

"I seal this vow with this ring-" David said at the minister's prompting, and with the mention of the ring, James jumped and rushed forward to place the ring in David's hand. There was an amused ripple through the crowd. " _This_  ring," David repeated with a smile, now that it was in his hand. "It represents all I own and all the future work of my hands. It represents my body and all the love in my heart. It is our yesterdays and all of our tomorrows."

The minister turned to Mary Margaret. "Mary Margaret, do you accept this vow and this ring?"

"I do." Her voice had tears standing clear in it, but it was strong and carried all the way to the back of the crowd.

David slid the band onto her hand where it settled neatly against the bright peridot she wore already.

Then it was Mary Margaret's turn to make the same vow to David. Her tears were gone, and so were her nerves. Her voice was clear and bright and rang through the room like a bell. It was David's voice which shook as he said "I do," and even Emma had to blink back tears.

"And now I ask," the minister said, smiling widely, "that you seal your bond with a kiss."

David pulled Mary Margaret to him and kissed her deeply and the audience and attendants cheered. There was clapping and shouts and whoops and laughter, and hardly a dry eye in the place.

Finally, after a long moment- the minister had had to clear his throat at the Nolans twice- he raised his hands over his head to quiet the crowd and cried, "it is my deepest pleasure to present to you today, Mr. and Mrs. David Nolan!"

The crowd went mad once again. Mary Margaret and David stood looking sheepish and proud and happy and perfect.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Things are finally coming together. For the most part this is the end of the action, with a fun little epilogue for next week. If you're having a good time, I recommend checking out my other story, The Stars that Listen to cure you of it.**
> 
> **(I kid, I actually think it's really good, but I've too much internalized self-loathing to ever say anything nice about my own work.)**
> 
> **Happy Fanfiction Friday!**

* * *

Killian glanced up the table and sighed. Unlike every other table in the reception hall, which was round, the head table was a long banquet which meant it was impossible to talk to anyone but the two people on either side of you. The girls on the far side of the bridal pair didn't seem to be suffering much, but Killian was more than ready to be done with this part of the proceedings.

Henry wasn't the problem, not really. Killian enjoyed time with the lad, but he'd gotten bored in about ten minutes and was now playing a video game on his phone under the table. Killian was jealous of his distraction and loathe to draw him into further boring adult conversations.

That left James as David and Mary Margaret were too wrapped up in one-another to notice anything else.

Killian barely knew James, and didn't like him in the best of cases. By the time he and Liam had moved to Storybrooke, Ruth and George were divorced, David and James had chosen the parents they would stay with, and George had sent James to a fancy prep school in Boston. Killian had only ever seen him on brief summer visits to his mother and brother where he'd sported a fake Boston accent and an open disdain for Maine and particularly for Storybrooke.

Still, Killian was capable of being polite when he put his mind to it. The trouble was that all of the innocuous small-talk topics had been exhausted twice over the previous night. James' job at the corporate law firm in the city was going well. The girl he'd been seeing the last time he'd come to town, Jack, was long gone, replaced at least twice over. His soccer club in Boston- the topic which had taken the longest to exhaust- had finally lost their tournament after what sounded like a hard-fought season.

Killian had just about decided a re-hash of the soccer club might be better than continuing to sit in silence when James piped up.

"Damn, she's hot."

Killian blinked and frowned, then tried to follow James' eyes to see who he was talking about. In that direction there were several women he knew to be single: Tink (no-go there, buddy), Ariel, the harbormaster at the marina, Lily, who ran the jewelry store and was even more prickly than Emma, and a few others.

"Who?" Killian asked. He realized he must be bored to even consider this line of conversation, but at least he might be able to warn the poor girl if James got ideas in his head.

"Brown girl over there. Maybe… Indian? Dot Indian, not feather. She's wearing red?"

Killian winced. "Jasmine," he said. "Her mother's family is from South Asia. I believe her father grew up around Sussex."

James looked at him with a knowing grin. "You got an eye in there, bro? Not a bad idea to have the next fish on the line in case things go south. You never know with women, right?"

It would ruin Dave and Mary Margaret's day if I punched the Best Man in the face over lunch, Killian told himself.

"Jasmine is Henry's teacher at school," he said, blandly instead.

James shook his head. "My advice is to avoid teachers. They're good for a couple of rounds- most of them need a little loosening up- but then they get kind of controlling. I mean, look at Dave. Mary Margaret used to be a teacher, right? Then again, I'd advise you to avoid moms for anything but a one-nighter, so you're already breaking all my rules."

Killian wasn't sure how much more he could bite his tongue before he bit it off, but he was saved having to say anything by Emma coming around behind them to whisper to James.

"Your speech should be in about a minute, okay? You'll go first, then me."

"Gotcha," James said with a wink that Emma ignored,

As she started off back to her seat, Killian grabbed her hand.

"Hey," he said quietly. "I love you."

Emma gave him a distracted smile. "Love you too." She squeezed his hand, glanced over at Henry to see he was not causing trouble, and headed back to her side of the table.

James shook his head at Killian. "Glad I'm going back to Boston soon," he said. "Something in the water around here makes all the dudes into pussies."

Thankfully, James clearly hadn't intended a response because he stood at that moment and tapped his champagne flute with his knife to get everyone's attention.

When the crowd quieted, he started to speak.

"I think most of you know that Dave and I are about as different as a pair of identical twins not separated at birth can possibly be. I always knew he would get married, but I never thought he'd ask me to be his best man, so I never planned a speech for him in advance. I imagine other brothers doing that- collecting facts and anecdotes to tell about their brother when he finally gets married… but not me. So when Dave told me he was getting married and asked me to be his best man, I was honored and surprised, and knew I had a lot of work to do.

"I can't tell you guys about Dave, not really. Most of you know him better than I do. You know him better as a man, a neighbor, a business owner, and a friend. I can't tell you the kind of man he is, but you could all tell me. I asked around a bit- discretely- since I got to town, and here's what I know about him. He's loyal. He's honest. He's fair. He works hard, and he's always willing to lend a hand when it's needed or its asked for.

"He is, in a word, a good man.

"I can't tell you as much about who Dave is now, but maybe I can tell you something about who he was when he was younger. Back when we turned 17, Dave and I decided we were going to hike the Long Trail for a week. We'd camp, catch our food where we could, eat energy bars where we couldn't, and generally be  _men_. We were kids, really, and stupid with it. You have to be stupid to want to hike for a week like that at that age, but you have to be brave too. That's what got us out there, really, a lot of brave and a lot of stupid.

"It was a good hike- a good experience. We learned a lot about ourselves and each other. We, honestly, found out that after a week or so of seeing almost nobody's face but our own, that we didn't like each other that much. We fought, but we stuck together and stuck it out.

"On the last night, we fought hard. I don't remember what it was over, but we were just furious with each other, and each of us said things- things we meant, and things we didn't, and things we meant at the time, but with the perspective of time, might not mean so much. So we separated that night. We were only one day from the end of our trip, our parents waiting for us, so it seemed like it couldn't hurt anything.

"That last day was the hardest of the seven. Even when you don't always like your partner, some things need one. Someone who can push you when you're ready to stop, or stop you when you've pushed yourself too far. Someone to watch your back when you need to make use of a tree-" he grinned, and the crowd chuckled.

"That's what I know about your Dave, see?" he continued. "What I learned when we were 17. He's a man who will push you when you want to stop, will stop you when you're pushing too hard, and will watch your back no matter what. And I learned that some things are better done with a partner. And it looks like Dave has found his, hasn't he? So here's to David and Mary Margaret, and the buddy system!"

The crowd drank and applauded, and David stood and shook his brother's hand, and accepted when James pulled him in for a back-slapping hug.

When the noise died, Emma stood. Unlike James, she had notecards in hand and gave the crowd a nervous smile.

"Once upon a time," she started, and the crowd gave an appreciative sigh, "a princess lived at the edge of the wood."

She looked up from her card and gave her audience a conspiratorial smile.

"David and Mary Margaret always make me think of fairy tales. I can't imagine why."

Everyone laughed,

"When I met Mary Margaret, I needed her help, but I didn't want it. I fought her every step of the way for it. I didn't want her help, I didn't want to be her friend… I didn't want  _anything_ from her. But Mary Margaret kept at it until she wore me down. She's stubborn, Mary Margaret. You don't notice it so much because she's so nice, but under all that sweetness is a spine made of steel, and what Mary Margaret wants, she gets. She wanted to be my friend, and she got that, for her sins."

Mary Margaret was laughing, her eyes damp, and Emma reached down to squeeze her hand as she continued.

"I think we all knew we'd end up here someday- at Mary Margaret and David's wedding- but we kept watching them. They were like your favorite book or movie. The kind where you know it ends happily, but sometimes when it's rainy or you're feeling down, you curl up with it again just to remind you how. The kind of story that, no matter how many obstacles, monsters, and traps the hero has to get through, it ends with true love and happily ever after.

"So here we are on the last page of the book, and we're about to wish our heroes happily ever after and see them off into the sunset. But people aren't books, and this happy ending isn't an ending at all. It's a happy beginning, because the adventure is just starting.

"So, to start again: once upon a time, there was a princess who lived on the edge of the woods and always got what she wanted. And there was a prince who lived on a farm, and he was what she wanted. And now that she has him, they'll live happily ever after, and that's just the beginning of the story."

Emma lifted her glass. "To David and Mary Margaret!"

Everyone in the room answered back, "to David and Mary Margaret."

Killian had to wipe his eyes as Mary Margaret pulled Emma into a hug, the both of them crying openly now.

"That was really good," Henry said. His mom's toast had apparently been more interesting than his video game.

"A fine speech," Killian agreed.

"Ruby and Belle helped a lot, but the fairy tale stuff was Mom's idea. She said I'd inspired her."

"Aye, Lad, I'd say you did."

Emma pulled back from Mary Margaret's hug, took her friends face in both her hands, and said something that had Mary Margaret laughing. The girls hugged again, more briefly this time, then Emma turned to the watching crowd and raised her hands.

"It's well past time to get this party started, everybody. I'd like everyone to give a hand to our DJ, Roger Radcliffe," she called, gesturing toward the back where the tall, pale young man who mostly taught music at the schools and private lessons outside of them was settling in front of a complicated sound system. "The first dance is for Dave and Mary Margaret and the wedding party, but as soon as it's over, we invite all of you to join us on the dance floor! We'll cut the cake in about an hour."

The wedding party filed down from the head table and stood on the edge of the dance floor as

David and Mary Margaret took their place in the center of it. Alan Jackson's "I'd Love You All Over Again" began, and the pair started dancing.

"This is the song they chose?" James asked quietly.

"Yup," Emma said. She had her arm around Henry's shoulders as they watched David and Mary Margaret waltz.

"No accounting for taste," James said, shaking his head.

"Never thought I'd say it, but I agree with you, James Nolan," Emma said.

"Is the great Emma Swan finally softening on me?" James teased.

"You gave a nice speech," Emma said.

"A real-live compliment. This is a red-letter day."

"Don't push it," Emma said. "Chorus is about to come up, everyone take their places so they're ready at the second verse."

The group spread itself over the dance floor and, as the lyrics crooned about eternal love, they began to move as though in unison.

"I'd get on your case for paying more attention to Emma than me," Ruby said, "but I get it. It'll be nice when we can pick our own partners."

"Sorry, Love," Killian said, pulling his eyes back to her face.

"You haven't stepped on my toes, so I know you're paying a little attention," she said with a smile. "It's good that it's almost over. Now all we've got to worry about are Christmas, New Year's, then when Mary Margaret and Dave get back it'll be-" she hesitated.

"Baby showers," Killian said, voice low. "Dave told me last night."

Ruby smiled. "Good. I'm glad you know."

"It's been a hell of a year," Killian said.

"It's not over yet."

The music wound to a close and the next song followed closely on the first. This one was faster, with a bouncing beat. Mulan cut in with Ruby with a cheerful wink, but when Killian turned to find Emma, she was already dancing with Henry.

Regina looked surprised when Killian offered her a hand.

"Dance, Regina?" he asked with a grin.

"I- sure," she said, and smiled back.

Regina wasn't a bad dancer, and at the next song, Henry and Killian traded partners.

The next dance was for mothers and sons and fathers and daughters. Ruth danced with Dave, Leo with Mary Margaret, and Emma with Henry again. About halfway through the song, Granny and Ruby joined the floor and, apparently taking an idea from that, Emma pulled Regina out, and she, her mum, and Henry swayed together as Killian sat at the side watching.

There were slow dances and fast ones. Henry took the floor with his friend Violet, and his other friend Grace, and a third girl that Killian couldn't name, but he'd ask the lad about later. Killian danced with the bride, each bridesmaid, and even David.

It was during a dance with Emma that things went pear-shaped. Mary Margaret had left the floor for a glass of water, and the music was lively. Killian was swinging Emma across the floor when she stopped in the middle of a turn, frowning into the crowd.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Mary Margaret and James are arguing," Emma said, pointing.

Sure enough, Dave's twin and his bride were at the bar, and the roses in Mary Margaret's cheeks weren't from pleasure at the moment.

"Best see what's to do," Killian said. "It'll be nice when it's not your problem anymore."

Emma gave him a tired smile, but she set off across the room, wending her way through the tables and ignoring the hails. He followed on her heels and they were at Mary Margaret's side in less than a minute.

"Come on, Mary Margaret," James was saying, his voice giving away the fact that he'd been haunting the bar since that first waltz. "You're married now, you should celebrate!"

"I'm not drinking today, James," Mary Margaret said, her voice tight. "It's my wedding day and I don't want to forget any of it!"

"All the important stuff is done, be a pal!"

"I said 'no.'"

"Fine, spoilsport. What about this though? You ever been to a Jewish wedding where they lift the bride and groom up on their chairs?"

"Absolutely not," Emma said, joining the conversation.

"Emma!" James cried as though he was thrilled to see her and hadn't heard what she just said. "You should talk your girlfriend here into having some actual fun!"

"Seems like she  _was_ before you started bugging her," Emma said, wrapping an arm around Mary Margaret's waist. "There's music and dancing and food." She turned to Mary Margaret. "Did you get your water? Come on, let's go get that." She started to tug Mary Margaret away from the bar.

James grabbed Mary Margaret's arm to keep her close by.

"Come on Mary- you used to be the life of the party!"

"She still is," Killian said, taking James by the wrist in a grip tight enough to make him let go of Mary Margaret's arm. "Seeing as it's her wedding, and she's the bride. Seems like the definition of 'life of the party.'"

"Who asked you, Jones?" James said, belligerent.

"Come on Mary Margaret, let's get you out of here," Emma said quietly.

"Ladies? Is there a problem?"

George, apparently drawn to his stepson, joined the fray.

"Dad! Why don't you tell these two fussy-boots that it would be fun to do that Jewish thing where they carry the bride and groom around on chairs!"

George frowned. "Why?" he asked. "I don't believe anyone involved in this wedding is Jewish… are they?"

"No!" both Mary Margaret and Emma cried.

"What's going on?" This time it was Ruth, with Mim at her side, David following behind them. "Emma, Mary Margaret, what's wrong?"

"Come on!" James shouted. "It'll be fun!"

"It seems that there is some talk of participating in the Jewish tradition of carrying the bridal pair on chairs," George said to the women.

"No there isn't!" Emma said, trying to be heard over all of this.

"...A real buzzkill," James was saying. "Won't drink, won't do the chair thing. Where's the fun?"

"You're not drinking?" Ruth asked, turning to Mary Margaret. "Are you feeling alright, my dear? Is something-" she stopped, and her face made a sudden, remarkable change.

"What's going on?" Mim asked. "What's wrong with you, Mary Margaret? Why aren't you drinking?" Mim frowned, and then a horrified look crossed her face. "Oh my god, Mary Margaret, are you  _pregnant_?"

That question dropped into the room like a bomb. The argument went silent for a moment, then exploded. For a long moment, nothing could be heard over the general clamour but James' voice quickly became the dominant one, alcohol making him loud and uninhibited.

"Jesus Christ, Dave, what have you gotten yourself into? Getting married is bad enough, but letting a girl claim you got her pregnant? You'll never get out of this mess now!"

Mary Margaret's face was white with shock, and David and Killian both stepped toward James, blood in their eyes. Emma got there first.

"Come on James," she said softly, fury tamped down under her voice. "You're drunk, and you need to get out of here. Right. Now." She took his arm and pulled him toward the exit, and he stumbled against her.

Killian stepped forward as well, caught his other arm, and added his strength to hers to steer James out of the room against his will.

Out in the quiet emptiness of the lobby, they were able to move faster.

"Are your clothes in the dressing room?" Emma asked. "I'll get-"

"Wait."

All three of them stopped at David's voice, and James turned to face his twin.

David didn't say anything, just cold-clocked his brother across the face.

Killian winced. He'd been on the receiving end of one of those punches once before, and though Dave hadn't had his heart in it at the time, it had still hurt.

Dave wasn't pulling punches today, and James' city lawyer's ass dropped to the floor under David's farmer's fist.

"What the fuck, man?" James shouted, hand on his jaw. "What the fuck was that for?"

"I think you're overdue," David said. His voice sounded calm, but Killian knew him like a brother, and he could hear the temper boiling under the mild words. "There's how you broke Mom's heart by leaving Storybrooke when she and George broke up. There's all the years you came back and acted like you were so much better than us. There's that time you  _abandoned_ me on Long Trail. But today? Just now? It's because you insulted my wife and my son or daughter."

James sat staring up at David, mouth open, nothing to say.

"Go back to Boston, James. Don't come back, okay. Leave me and my family alone."

David turned and went back into the reception hall which was buzzing with what had just happened.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **That's all she wrote.**
> 
> **(There's more coming, once I'm done posting my ACOTAR crossover story.  I can't keep up with posting two at a time, it gives me anxiety.)**

"You'd think," Regina said, taking the seat next to Emma at one of the tables, "that that kind of drama would spell the end of the party. This one seems to be just revving up."

"When are you going to learn that Storybrooke runs on gossip?" Emma asked "That was basically filling our tank."

David and Mary Margaret had cut their cake and left within half an hour of seeing James out, but the rest of the party seemed like it might go until midnight, when they would all hopefully turn into pumpkins.

"Only upside is that I don't have to keep their secret anymore," Emma said, taking a long sip of her coffee.

"Storybrooke hardly seems like the sort of place where a secret is easily kept."

Emma shook her head. "It's really not."

"Fortunately, you're not usually so… intimately involved in the secrets and their keeping yourself."

"Guess it depends on whose secret it is," Emma said, then sighed. "But no, generally not."

"And most of the weddings you plan aren't quite so… dramatic?"

Emma laughed at that. "Some of them are a thousand times worse. One drunken implication that the poor groom's bride is a whore is nothing around here."

"Fortunately you have the ability to close the god-damned door," Regina said. "On this one at least."

"Hah! I knew you were listening back when I was in high school!"

Regina said nothing, and buried her smile in her champagne flute.

"Pity your Killian wasn't here to catch the garter. He wears a tuxedo well, and will look nice on his own wedding day," she said after a few minutes.

"Couple things," Emma said with a sigh. "Thing one, he's not  _my_ Killian."

"Well he's certainly not anyone else's," Regina said.

Emma opened her mouth to argue, then shut it again. She didn't have the energy and besides, it wasn't as though she wanted him to be anyone else's, so he might as well be hers.

"Thing two, yes he looks great in a tux, and hates them with a passion normally reserved for cancer diagnoses."

"Are you saying he won't wear one at his wedding?"

"Thing three," Emma continued, ignoring this, "is that you already have a grandkid. Doesn't that mean an end of the nagging?"

"Hmmm," Regina said, pursing her lips. "I think not, somehow. I'm your mother, it is my right to nag. But really, I was thinking about your happiness more than my own."

"Really?" Emma sounded passing skeptical.

"I'm not saying I wouldn't dearly love to see you properly married, but more than that, I'd like to see you happy. Killian makes you happy."

"Kil deserves to be happy too, Mom."

Regina snorted a laugh. "If that young man is not happy, I don't know who could possibly be. Except perhaps your David and Mary Margaret… I don't think I've ever seen anyone as happy, even on their wedding day."

"Yeah," Emma said with a soft smile. "They're pretty much the ideal."

"As I say though, Killian is happy with you. He loves you very much."

"Yeah," Emma said, knowing it was impossible to deny. "He does."

"And you love him."

"Yeah," Emma said. "I do."

"Then I suggest you do something about it, daughter-of-mine," Regina said. "It doesn't have to be marriage, but it's well past time you stopped being afraid and took the plunge."

Emma didn't get to answer her mom because Killian appeared at the door to the reception hall at that moment looking surly. He'd volunteered to take James back to the farm since his truck had four-wheel drive and James was in no state to drive. David and Mary Margaret were spending their wedding night at the Loft, and Ruth would see her son off in the morning.

Emma went to him, and Regina watched the way just catching sight of her made Killian's sulky expression transform. She shook her head in wonder at the foolishness of the young.

She didn't have long to consider it though, as Robin chose that moment to ask her to dance.


End file.
